


Love in Every Stitch

by 6am



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Mild Horror, POV Second Person, basically youre a stuffed bear and mika comes to your rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22885636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6am/pseuds/6am
Summary: “But his friends are all big, right?” You’re confused, because you’re all just toys. Children get toys, you don’t need to protect someone who’s big. “We would go to waste.”“Are you at waste here?” The ragdoll asks without any sarcasm, only genuine curiosity.You don’t quite have an answer.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	Love in Every Stitch

**Author's Note:**

> hello welcome to this mess
> 
> so this was near totally inspired by this art https://twitter.com/daminmsbr1/status/1229067374797549568?s=20 and me and my friends were like "lol stuffed animal mika gives you upsies VR" and then it became. this. sorry for this link im a dipshit and idk how to make anything work lmao
> 
> please enjoy, the horror elements are mild but i got a lot of comments saying it was there, so please be careful!

The ground is cold. At least you’re pretty sure it’s the ground, or maybe it’s the floor? The feeling of whatever you’re laying on is different than what “floor” usually is. It’s breezy and loud, and every pair of feet you see passing by are clad with shoes. 

You’re outside. 

You’re outside, and while you can’t move your head to take stock of your current position you can feel the breeze stirring your faux fur and the thread that once connected your eye to your head. A wisp of stuffing floats by, and you watch that piece of yourself tumble farther down the street. 

Of course it doesn’t hurt— being a stuffed animal doesn’t come with such terrible things— but it’s... scary? You know that feeling, though only by the voice of your child whimpering at night. “Scary” is monsters under the bed, or the thunder that shakes the house. You might not be a very large bear, but your job is to protect your child from the storms and the darkness of a closet door that wasn’t shut fully before bedtime. But you were good at your job, even with your rounded paws with no claws and an upside down Y for a mouth that bears no teeth. Cradled lovingly against your boy’s tiny chest was the perfect place to keep watch, even when he buried himself under the blankets. 

This, laying on the outside with your stuffing coming from your belly and one eye and one arm suddenly missing... is scary. Calling for help isn’t possible with a mouth made only of thread and the passerby don’t seem too interested anyway. You have a general idea of “trash”, and really all you need to know your fate is that trash is undesirable. So, you watch the passing feet and use what’s left of your ears to listen to the sounds of outside without the barrier of a window. Even the children who walk past don’t spare you a glance, too busy chattering about their day at school or enamored with their own unbroken toys. You miss your boy. 

The day goes on like that until the sun starts to dip low in the sky. A stray cat stops for just a few moments to sniff you and ends up rolling you onto your back in the process. The sky is all you can see between the tops of two buildings, and it only gets darker. The people walking by slow to a trickle as the sky bleeds into a reddish orange slew, and you hope with every thread still intact that your boy can sleep without nightmares tonight. 

A small herd of footsteps passes by you, the sound of shoes on pavement accompanied by cheerful conversation and playful jabbing. They sound happy, like your boy when he would set you up for a great adventure up and down the stairs. 

The sky is blotted out very quickly, a blob of dark and light that your remaining eye takes a second to put together. It’s not your boy, but someone reaching out with careful hands and a concerned look. 

“Hey there...” Their voice is soft, mumbled and very different from the way your boy had sounded— deeper and with a different pull on the sounds of the words. “Ah, you got real beat up didn’t ya?”

Yes. That much is very obvious. 

“Mika-chan!” 

His head whips around back to the group that’s farther ahead now, and his mouth turns into a little grin. 

“I’m comin’! Wait up!”

With all the care of your boy and his parents combined you’re lifted from the ground, tucked carefully against the warmth of a chest with a thumping heart behind it. You barely even jostle as your savior runs back to the group. 

“Another one?” The one with messy red hair leans down to look at you closely, frowning at your pitiful state. 

“Can’t just leave ‘em there.”

A sigh from the right, and a gentle poke to one of the arms holding you. “That’s our Mika-chan, but that one really stinks.”

“Yeah.” The one with silvery hair farther ahead pinches his nose shut and scowls. “You’re goin’ home first.”

You feel the laughter more than hear it from your spot against his chest, and catch just the edge of this Mika-chan looking down at you with a smile. 

“S’fine by me.”

* * *

“Good _God_ , Kagehira.”

From your spot on the counter you can barely see another person in the room, a tall and slim figure that refuses to enter the bathroom. Mika-chan (or is it Kagehira?) turns off the faucet and stands between the two of you. This is just fine. You’re getting pretty tired of these people rudely commenting on your state. 

“I’m giving him a bath right now! It’ll be real quick, Oshi-san.” Mika-chan rolls up his sleeves and lines up a variety of tools and soaps next to the sink. “I’ll clean up the sink too, promise.”

“I know you will, or else you’d be on the street where you found that thing.” Oshi-san makes a huffing sound. “I don’t see the point in it, you’d spend less time giving it a proper funeral and you wouldn’t risk ruining the pipes with dirty stuffing.”

This Oshi-san isn’t your favorite you decide. He’s not very nice, and your boy wouldn’t like him. You do not like people that would make your boy upset. 

Mika-chan lifts you just as carefully as he had before, smiling even as he gently removes your spilling stuffing. “Course there’s a point to it, Oshi-san. And I’ll yank anything outta the drain that I miss.” He looks you in the eye now, smile just as sweet as your boy’s. “You’ll be good as new, huh?”

Over Mika-chan’s shoulder you see Oshi-san shake his head, but he leaves the doorway with a sliver of a smile. You still don’t like Oshi-san. 

But the water is warm, and the soaps worked lovingly into your fur smells sweet and clean. Mika-chan talks to you while he works, his voice soft and soothing. You learn about his friends, about the extent of the damage done to your body, and are promised a good home. 

You also learn about Oshi-san, but you choose to stop listening then. 

* * *

Several days pass before your fur is dry and completely rinsed of soap. Your chest stays limp without any stuffing in it, and your tattered arm was carefully removed before your bath. Early in the morning Mika-chan very carefully puts you into what you think is a backpack, and you travel in darkness next to a small bag of fresh stuffing and some lint. 

Most of the day passes in a muffled blur with only occasional peeks to the outside world when Mika-chan needs something from his backpack. Lots of talking, sometimes yelling, most of it muddles together like when you were allowed to sit at the dinner table while your boy and his family would eat. You wonder for a while if your little plate and cutlery set was also damaged when you were. 

Loud bells chime later in the day, and you’re set back into the world and onto a table in a different room than before, littered with fabrics and papers and tools. Another face leans into yours, a mass of blue and kind eyes behind thick glasses. 

“Another rescue mission, Mika-kun?” Careful hands lift you from the table, petting your newly soft fur and running over your seams. 

“Yup! I got lots of stuff I can use to fix ‘em, I even did some drawings for it at lunch, hehe.” The blue beast chuckles before passing you over to Mika-chan (Mika-kun? Your boy didn’t have this many names.) “I dunno what his name is yet though. That’s always the hard part...”

Your boy had simply named you Kuma-kun. It’s a good name, simple and right. You wish you had a name tag or a mouth that was more than embroidery so you could say so. Mika-chan and the blue beast mull over different names while Mika-chan starts to work on you. The stuffing carefully pushed into your chest is light and springy, even the needle used to piece you back together is gentle somehow. 

Mika-chan makes up for the fur you had lost with strange choices in fabric, disregarding your fur for fuzzy red velvet scraps and silky smooth bits that scatter your chest. Both of your ears are replaced with a printed cotton that doesn’t match anything he's chosen does far, but you’re thankful for the full return of your hearing. The machine that makes the fabric into your new parts hums loudly, and the shiny new button you have for an eye watches the needle bounce and stitch something green and plush that becomes your new arm. 

You have one set of claws now, you appreciate Mika-chan’s aid in your quest to fight the monsters under the bed and the creatures that hide under the noise of thunder. These new features aren’t anywhere close to your factory design— and they’re kind of messy really. Some of your stitches are outside and _crooked_ for stuffing’s sake— but they’re strong. 

A factory seam is made strong with thread and a calculated seam allowance, with the edges bound and your predecessors prototyping to know just how to place your limbs. These seams are uneven in some spots, and without a die cut precision to allow a finished edge Mika-chan compensates with criss cross stitches that show on your belly. 

Even without the finesse of a pattern, however, your new body is strong. Love hums warm in your exposed stitches, the claws on your new hand are crude but crafted with care. Mika-chan props you up carefully against the machine with a promise to return quick when Oshi-san demands help with something outside of the room. You’re left with the ticking of a clock, the blue beast working across the room, and your new limbs to keep you company. 

And the doll you hadn’t noticed until she speaks to you from her own perch across from you. 

“Mika-chan is sweet, isn’t he?” She asks, painted face stuck in a serene smile that matches her airy voice. Her tiny hands are folded primly in her lap, almost hidden in the neat pleats of her dress. “He always takes good care of us.”

“He is.” You agree. You’ve never spoken with a doll before, the closest thing being your boy’s action figures that could turn into cars. “I wish he had given me more claws though.”

She laughs. “Maybe he will, he likes those kinds of things. His taste is so different compared to Shu-kun’s.”

“Shu-kun?”

“Mika-chan calls him Oshi-san. I’m his doll.” 

You wish you could frown. “I don’t like him.”

The doll’s face can’t change, but you can hear her sadness. “Shu-kun... is still lonely. He has more friends than he used to, but he still doesn’t know how not to be lonely.” The doll brightens up some, the sun in the window catching on her pretty face. “Sometimes children get a bit prickly when they’re sad, right?”

Your boy wasn’t lonely. One, because he had you. Two, because his parents doted on him, and you had play dates with his friends from school. Your boy is loved, you know this even when you aren’t in the home that radiates warmth. You aren’t quite sure what this doll means. 

“He isn’t a child,” you say instead, “he’s too big.” The doll laughs so loudly you startle a bit. 

“You’re right,” she says, voice growing quiet and overwhelmingly fond, “he’s grown up quite a bit.” There’s clearly more to what she’s saying, but you don’t press it. You aren’t sure how Oshi-san has a doll that cares so much for him. 

But she’s clearly cared for in return, shockingly well in fact. Her dress is clean without a single loose thread, and she sits perfectly upright in a little chair with pretty embellishments along the head of it. Her porcelain body shines without a hint of aged dusting or imperfections. The doll’s voice is clear and strong, she’s loved. Adored even. You don’t quite get it, and you refuse to believe Oshi-san is responsible for all of her. 

The blue beast starts humming quietly to himself, a cheerful tune to mask the quiet between the two of you. 

The doll tuts to herself, then sighs. “Where are my manners? My name is Mademoiselle. Mika-chan calls me Mado-nee, it’s quite cute. You can call me that if you like. Do you have a name?”

It was Kuma-kun, a good and easy name. But is it still yours? Your boy must be far away, maybe he’s grown too big to need help against nightmares and monsters. You can’t move your head, but you let your mismatched eyes go hazy and unfocused. Mado-nee becomes a blur. 

“I’m not sure.” You answer quietly. Mado-nee makes a soft sound in reply, but she leaves you to your thoughts. Mika-chan returns sometime later, and you return to the backpack and the comfortable dark within. 

* * *

There are many, many stuffed animals in Mika-chan’s bedroom. 

You come out of the backpack to a ruckus of conversation that’s almost entirely about you. Mika-chan places you very carefully on a windowsill next to a duck with too many feet and a kitty that looks like two different halves spliced together. 

“Yo, fresh meat!” Comes a shout from the bed where even more plushies are lined up. The room erupts into laughter while Mika-chan scowls down at his homework. 

“Don’t listen to them,” the mishmashed kitty chuckles when the noise dies down, “those ones over there think they’re all real funny. Welcome to The Window, you got a name?”

“...no.” You have a good view of the bedroom from the window. It’s tidy, much larger than your boy’s room... maybe. You don’t really remember what his room looks like anymore, or his face even. You’re afraid. 

“You’ll get one soon, don’t worry.” The duck next to you must have mistaken your fear to be about a name. You continue to worry anyway. “Took me a long time to get a name. I’m Flippies. Cuz, yknow, the extra feets. The fine lady next to you is Miss Stitch, treat her kindly, yeah?”

“Just Stitch is fine,” the kitty says, “cheer up, kid. You’re gonna like it here.” 

You aren’t quite sure of that. 

* * *

Really, it’s not that bad. 

The sun warms your back perfectly from The Window, and Mika-chan is very thoughtful in his rotation of who gets The Window and who gets The Bed. It isn’t long before you have your own turn on The Bed where it’s plush and cozy. Two others are there with you, a ragdoll with two heads and a surprisingly normal looking bunny. 

“I’m going to live with Naru-chan soon!” is all the bunny ever seems to talk about, giddy and giggly with excitement. “Hey, did you know my belly is full of teeth?”

You eye the zipper messily stitched onto her tummy warily. Thank goodness none of you can pull it open yourselves. 

“We all end up somewhere,” the ragdoll explains when you ask, both heads talking in unison. “Mika’s got lots of friends and they all have birthdays, Naru-chan’s is coming up soon.”

“But his friends are all big, right?” You’re confused, because you’re all just toys. Children get toys, you don’t need to protect someone who’s big. “We would go to waste.”

“Are you at waste here?” The ragdoll asks without any sarcasm, only genuine curiosity. You don’t quite have an answer. You decide the two headed doll is a bit too creepy for your tastes. 

You spend several days and nights on the bed, either resting against the pillows or tucked under the blankets next to Mika-chan while he sleeps. He talks to you and the others sometimes, usually late at night when it’s been dark for hours and he should be asleep. 

You learn about Naru-chan and how she’s Mika-chan’s best friend, her kindness and her love. You hear about how funny Ritsu-kun can be at lunch some days when he isn’t sleeping through it. His classmates seem kind, and sometimes they even visit. 

They don’t play with any of you, they’re always doing homework or snickering together at night during a sleepover. You watch them build projects and listen to conversations ridden with worry and peppered with comfort from both participants. Sometimes you’re squished under someone’s weight, but they’re always quick to save you and put you back where you belong. Even the silver haired one who complained about your smell when Mika-chan saved you— Koga-kun is his name— is gentle when he lifts you from underneath his leg. 

This place is very different from your first home, but there is still love here. Different, sometimes patchy like your new chest, but just as strong. 

One night Mika-chan falls asleep early with his cheek squished against your face, his hair still wet from the shower. He had been talking about a “live” for the past month, coming into his bedroom and falling asleep quickly when he wasn’t too occupied with his own worries. 

The light from the hallway is blocked by a figure, casting a long shadow on the wall. Your felt claws are sharp, and you know Bun-chan’s tummy is partially unzipped to help you fight the oncoming monster. A mighty roar builds in your throat as it comes closer, but it’s only Oshi-san looming over the bed. 

Still a threat, but not as big as you thought. 

Oshi-san’s face is different tonight, soft and obviously tired. He looks down at Mika-chan and rolls his eyes, but carefully pulls one of the quilts rumpled on the bed up to cover him while he sleeps. The toys that had been jostled in the process are corrected with loving hands, and the tips of Oshi-san’s fingers graze your face when he pets a hand through Mika-chan’s wild hair. He is warm, and kind, and you’re very surprised. 

Oshi-san closes the door quietly when he leaves the room. You remember your boy’s parents doing almost exactly the same thing, but instead of sorrow you feel just a bit warmer. 

* * *

It’s been a while, but the backpack is about the same as it was the last time you were in it. This time you have a few more companions that chatter excitedly for most of the trip. 

_We’re going to the kids!_

_Who do you think you’re going with?_

_Maybe we’ll all stay together?_

_I’m gonna miss you if we don’t!_

You stay quiet, listening to the toys and the rumble of the bullet train. It’s a long trip, Mika-chan spent the last few days talking about it. He kept calling it home, which is weird because Oshi-san’s house is his home, right? Stitch had explained it to you once. She’s one of Mika-chan’s, crafted from scraps and a hand drawn pattern. She’s very smart, even with one eye and all of her bandages and her exposed seams. You’ll miss her, you think. 

And begrudgingly, you realize you will miss Oshi-san. Mostly because he always has Mado-nee with him, but over the time spent with Mika-chan you’ve come to see Oshi-san’s kindness. The very fancy jacket you’re sporting is testament to that kindness, handcrafted and perfectly fitting. You remember his hands— larger and more sure than Mika-chan’s— holding you like you were something truly precious while he measured your body. You had meant to ask Mado-nee about him that night, but she had seemed so tired. You wish her luck from the bottom of the backpack, and hope that Oshi-san’s loneliness truly leaves someday. 

There’s more travel once Mika-chan lugs his bags off of the train, a lot of walking and more voices from outside calling out to him. He stops to talk to a few people, but the only time the bag opens while he walks is when he stops to reach for his wallet to buy something to eat. You bounce along inside the bag, even your companions gone quiet after so long in darkness. 

Eventually the bag is set down, and you perk up immediately at the sound of children. Lots of children if the volume is any indication. 

_“Mika-nii!! Mika-nii, welcome home!!!”_

_“Mika-nii, we saw you and Oshi-niisan on the computer! The livestream was so cool!”_

_“Mika-nii pick me up!!”_

_“No pick_ me _up!!”_

You worry that the bag you’re in has been forgotten, you sit there with the other toys until it goes dark and quiet. You can hear a zipper on another bag being opened, but the one with you and the other toys remains untouched. Everyone has gone silent, waiting with held breath for the time when Mika-chan remembers. 

Eventually, it does happen. 

The bag opens to a cacophony of sad children, and Mika-chan shushing the small crowd around him. 

“I’ll be back soon, okay? I gotta go back to school, y’all be good for Momma and Dad okay?”

A little girl comes into view when she clings to Mika-chan’s arm, her lip wobbling and tears clinging to her cheeks. “Can’t you go to school here? Mika-nii...”

Mika-chan pulls her into a hug, kissing the top of her head. “Y’all’ll be fine, I promise. C’mere, I brought some presents with me.”

The kids crowd around even closer, standing on tiptoe to try and see into the bag. The crying girl doesn’t let go of Mika-chan, but he manages to distribute the toys while keeping an arm around her. 

One by one the other toys leave the bag, greeting their new children with overwhelmed excitement and relishing in their hugs. Mika-chan can’t hear his toys thanks, but the children make up for it with their own enthusiasm and cries of joy over their new friends. 

You lay at the bottom of the bag, staring up at the little girl who still clings to Mika-chan. 

“Don’ wan’ you to go,” she whimpers, tiny hands fisted in the hoodie Mika-chan is wearing. “I wanna live with you ‘n Oshi-niisan.”

Mika-chan laughs into her messy hair, leaning back to coax her head up to look at him. “You’ll be alright here, I promise ya.” He makes a motion over his chest with his free hand. “Cross my heart, and then some real nice people will see you one day and you’re gonna have a real good home.”

He turns to look into the bag, reaching in the with the same gentle hands that had scooped you up from the trash so long ago. Mika-chan smiles at you one last time, then turns you to face the little girl. 

“This one’s just for you, and you get to have him forever.” 

Her eyes fill with wonder despite the lingering tears, and you look up at her with your one button and one plastic round eye. She holds you close to her chest, pressing you against her tiny ribs and tiny heart. 

“Forever?” She asks, squeezing you tight. 

Yes, you think, as long as your body will let you. 

You might be older now, but you have fresh stuffing, sturdy seams, and a child to protect. Your boy must be older now, nourished with love and protected by your old family. 

“You take good care of him, okay? He’s real strong.” Mika-chan holds up your clawed paw with one of his fingers, giving it a bounce. “He’ll keep you safe, won’t ya Mister Bear?”

You will. Any monster hiding will run and cry if they even think about coming out. Your claws are strong. You’ve been given a name. A simple, good name. 

The little girl— _your_ girl— breaks out in a smile, holding you up to look into your face. “I’ll keep him safe too, Mika-nii, and we’re gonna have a tea party!” A tea party… you’ve heard of those, you’re quite excited to see what it’s like. “And all his friend’s are gonna come!”

Mika-chan grins at you both, then pays her on the head. “I’ll hafta come to one soon, save me a spot, okay?”

Your girl turns you to face him as he walks away backwards, waving and looking a bit tearful as he blows a final kiss. Your girl waves your paw for you, wishing him well. Maybe you’re imagining things, but it seems like you make eye contact, and you wonder if maybe Mika-chan could hear you all along. 

You really can’t wait until that tea party comes around.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on twt @its_6_am


End file.
